As time wore on, and they did not return, Mr. Her back arched and she felt herself instinctively sinking into him. ‘No sense in snooping about down here,’ Gerald whispered. Sheppard's habitation terminated a row of old ruinous buildings, called Wheeler's Rents; a dirty thoroughfare, part street, and part lane, running from Mint Street, through a variety of turnings, and along the brink of a deep kennel, skirted by a number of petty and neglected gardens in the direction of Saint George's Fields.
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